


("' 



The 

Clever Doctor 

45 

BY 

^^ REA WOODMAN, M. A. 

PRICE 15 CENTS. 



ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE, 

FRANKLIN, - OHIO. ^ 



The Clever Doctor. 

Adapted From Grimm's Tale, 
"THE CLEVER DOCTOR." 



A Dramatic Satire in Five Acts. 



By REA WOODMAN 

Author of "The Sweet Girl Graduates," "The Rescue of 
Prince Hal" and "Galliger." 



Copyright, 1912, Eldridge Entertainment House. 



Eldridge Entertainment House, 
franklin, - ohio. 






^nin SI 23! 



THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY. 



Jacob Crabs, "Doctor Know- All, an Ambitious 
Peasant. 

Grethel Crabs, His Wife. 

Lord Noddlehede, a Wealthy Nobleman. 

Lord Wigglestaff, Friend to Lord Noddlehede. 

Dr. P. S. Sodium, a Prominent Physician. 

Peters, Servant to Lord Noddlehede. 

Patients, Servants and Waiting Maids. 



ACT I — The Diningroom of Dr. Sodium's House. 
' 'Anybody can learn to be a doctor. Get 
a gig and pill box." 

ACT II— The Library of Lord Noddlehede's Pal- 
ace, Five Weeks Later. 
' 'Never put off until tomorrow what you 
ought to have done yesterday. Put 
"Doc" on the trail." 

ACT m-The Office of Dr. Knowall, the Same 
Morning. 

' 'Grethel, old girl, our fortune is made. " 

ACT TV— The Diningroom of Lord Noddlehede's 
the Next Day. 

' 'From this day, Doctor Know- All rides 
in his own carriage." 

ACT Y-The Office of Doctor Knowall, Six Months 
Later. 

' 'There's only one prescription for rich, 
nervous women. I always give 'em 
that one." 



ACT I. 

{The Dining-room of the House of Dr. So- 
dium. The Doctor is seated at dinner, served 
b\ a brisk zvhite-cdpped maid servant.) 

Sodium, (eating). Any mail? 

Maid. Yes, sir. 

Sodium, (eating). Bring it to me. Any telegrams? 

Maid. No, sir. Yes, sir. (She goes out. The Doc- 
tor eats away, in a business-like manner, until she re- 
turns, carrying an enormous amount of mail.) 

Sodium, (opening letters as he continues his dinner). 
That will do. (The Maid goes. He opens letters galore, 
frowning zvith professional pre-occupation ivhile he skims 
their contents.) 

(Enter the Maid.) 

Maid. The wood man wants to see you. 

Sodium. Eh? 

Maid. The man who brought the wood, you know. 
' Sodium, (looking at her as if she zvere n't there at 
all). Well, what else? 

Maid, (distinctly, zvith virtuous patience). You 
bought a load of wood this morning. From a peasant. 
He has just unloaded it in the back yard. He wants 
his pay. 

Sodium, (eating). Of course. Naturally. Send 
him in. (The Maid goes.) 

(Enter Jacob Crabs, in peasant clothes, and with a 
long knitted scarf zuound many times around his throat.) 

Crabs, (sheepishly, mauling off his cap). I brought 
yer that wood. 

Sodium, (looking up). Eh? Oh, is it you? How 
much is the wood, my good man? 

Crabs. Two dollars was what we agreed on. 



Sodium, {producing his money purse). So we did. 
You are right. And cheap enough it was. {counts out 
some silver pieces). I am much obHged to you. It's a 
cold day. Have you far to go ? ( The Maid brings in a 
small covered dish, and removes the Doctor's plate.) 

Crabs, {who has been taking in the appointments of 
the room, and of the table). About nine miles. It's a 
hard life, is farmin'. I get mighty tired. {Sodium does 
not anszver.) I never set down to no sich meal as that 
in my life. 

Sodium. I earned this dinner. I work twelve hours 
a day. Do you? 

Crabs, {wistfiilly) . No, but I could if I knowed 
how. I work all I know. 

Sodium, {lightly, eating). Well, that's all any man 
can do. 

Crabs. I work all I know, but we don't eat off no 
chiney plates at my house ; we don't have no puddin' of 
a week day. I wish I was a doctor. 

Sodium. It's a hard life. Wish for something easy. 
{scans a letter or two.) 

Crabs, {his roving, zvistful gaze returning to the doc- 
tor after a slow survey of the room). Could I learn to 
be a doctor? 

Sodium, {folding up his napkin). Oh, anybody can 
learn to be a doctor. Get a gig and a pill box. 

Crabs. I got a horse and wagon. 

Sodium, {plainly bored, and sorting his letters). Then 
you're all fixed. Paint a sign and commence. 

Crabs, {shaking his shocky head). Don't I have to 
study no doctor books ? 

Sodium, {sizing him up from head to heels, and back 
again, zvith curious deliberation). So you want to be a 
doctor? Well, there's no accounting for tastes. You 
can be a doctor — a doctor of a sort. 
• Crabs. What must I do? 

Sodium. Unwind that flag — or whatever it is — and sit 



down there. {He points to a chair. Crabs imzuinds the 
endless scarf, and sits dozun). Now, listen. You want 
to be a doctor. To accomplish this, you must do three 
things. First, buy a large book — a big, big book, and 
always keep it open on the table. Second, turn your 
horse and wagon into money, and with it buy clothes 
and other things suitable for a doctor. Third, have a 
sign painted, "I am Doctor Knowall," and nail it over 
your door. 

Crabs, (tivisting his feet around). What sort of 
doctor things do you mean? 

Sodium. You've been in a doctor's office, haven't you ? 

Crabs. Once — when I had a carbuncle on my neck. 

Sodium. Well, buy things such as that Doctor had. 
Always wear good clothes, and always be in a hurry. 
Smile twice a year — on legal holidays — and mind your 
own business. That's all. (He turns his attention zvholly 
to his letters.) 

Crabs, (rising, after a minute). I guess I can do 
that; I alius have. (Sodium does not anszver. Crabs 
zvinds the endless scarf about his neck, and prepares to 
go.) Well, good day to you. 

Sodium, (glancing up). Good day. Good luck to 
you. (Crabs goes, zvith a long, zvistful look at the ab- 
sorbed doctor.) 

Sodium, (solus). There, I suppose I've made an- 
other quack. Well, there are fools enough to keep us 
all busy. If he's clever at the start, he'll succeed. (He 
rises, drinks a glass of zvater, and gathers up his mail.) 
It's not how much a doctor knows, but what sort of peo- 
ple he treats. If he treats money, he makes money. If 
that fellow gets on the right track, he's good for a long 
run. He's a climber. 

(He goes out, carrying his letters. The Maid comes 
and clears off the table, zi'ith many unconscious co- 
quetries.) 

CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

{The Library of Lord Noddlehede's Palace, 
Five Weeks Later.) 

(In his elegant Library, Lord N oddlehede is discov- 
ered pacing back and forth, like a man distraught. There 
is a gentle tap at the door.) 

Nod. Come in. 

(Enter Peters, in livery.) 

Peters. A gentleman to see you, my lord. 

Nod. I can't see him. You know I'm in no condi- 
tion to see anybody. 

Peters. — Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord. (He 
goes, meekly. Noddlehede continues his agitated pacing 
of the floor.) 

(Re-enter Peters.) 
Peters. My lord, here is — 
Nod. (curtly). Is it the Chief of Police? 
Peters. No, my lord. It is — 

Nod. (crossly). I told you I could n't see anybody. 
How many times do you have to be told ? 

Peters, (meekly, handing a letter). A message from 
Lord Wigglestaff. 

Nod. Oh. Why did n't you say so? (He opens the 
letter and reads aloud.) "Have just heard of the rob- 
bery. It's hard lines. If I can do anything, let me know. 
Yours, Wigglestaff." Is Lord Wigglestaff here? 

Peters. Yes, my lord. He is waiting, my lord. 

Nod. (tossing the letter aside). Bring him up. (Af- 
ter Peters has gone, he takes a fezv turns, "sighing like 
a furnace," then seats himself.) 

(Enter Lord Wigglestaff, "a jolly good fellow," with 
hat, huge-headed cane, and yellozv gloves.) 

Wig. Mornin', Noddlehede. I'm mighty sorry, old 
man. Better luck next time. 

8 



Nod. {extending his correct hand). Good morning, 
my lord. Thank you. Be seated. 

Wig. (flopping down carelessly) . Can't stay. Only 
called to inquire. 

Nod. (reseating his dignified self). You have heard 
of the robbery, you say? 

Wig. (peeling off his gloves). Just read an account 
of it. Came right over. Paper said ten thousand. Hope 
it was n't so much. 

Nod. (burying his face in his hands). Ten thou- 
sand dollars. ' 

Wig. By George! Gold? 

Nod. Gold. 

Wig. You don't say ! Think the servants took it ? 

Nod. (shaking his melancholy head). No. There is 
not a servant in the palace that would rob me of a dollar. 

Wig. (flecking his boot with his cane). Glad you 
think so. Blessed be faith. 

Nod. (zvith apprehension) . What do you mean, my 
lord? Do you think my own servants would steal money 
from me — from mef 

Wig. I don't think. Makes my head ache. When 
was it taken? 

Nod. I do not knoAv. I discovered the loss yesterday. 

Wig. What you going to do? 

Nod. Do, my lord? 

Wig. Do. There's always something to do. Brace 
up, my friend. All's not lost that's out of sight. 

Nod. I have asked the Chief of Police to take charge 
of the matter. 

Wig. Police nothin'. I tell you what. Send for 
"Doc." Knowall. Ple'll find it while the police are load- 
ing their pistols. 

(Enter Peters.) 
Nod. Well? 

Peters. The Chief of Police, my lord. 

9 



Nod. Ask him to wait. 

Wig. Don't mind me, Noddlehede. Let him come 
up. I'm rather fond of the poHce — when they're after 
the other fellow ! 

Nod. We will see him presently. (7'o Peters.) Tell 
him to wait. {Peters goes, bowing meekly.) Who is 
this doctor, my lord ? 

Wig. Nobody knows, exactly, but he's the cleverest 
man in this town. Send for him. Never put off until 
tomorrow what you ought to have done yesterday. Put 
"Doc" on the trail. 

Nod. Is he a gentleman? 

Wig. {snickering) . Well, hardly. His father never 
heard the word, or I'm another. He was a poor peasant 
named Crabs, they say, but Dr. Sodium educated him and 
started him out. Now he's "Doctor Knowall," and has a 
shack of his own down on High Street. The things 
that fellow knows would astonish you. 

Nod. {playing elegantly with the paper knife). About 
medicine, my lord? 

Wig. (rising and moving about the room, in an ex~ 
cess of enthusiasm) . About everything. He's a sort of 
mind reader, and knows things without being told, and 
before they happen. Why, he told Harry Hardryder 
exactly where to find his lost watch. 

Nod. He did ? You don't tell me ! 

Wig. (jamming his hat on his head to get rid of it, 
putting his hands in his pockets, and stramming around). 
Hardryder broke his leg. Called in Knowall to fix him 
up. Knowall gets another doctor to set it, and gives 
him some powders, and tells him to take one every hour. 
"Can't, Doc," sa5^s Hardryder, "lost my watch." "Lost 
your watch?" says Doc. "Is that so?" "Yep," says 
Hardryder, "can't find it high nor low." Says Doc, "Did 
you look on the sideboard?" "Of course," says Hard- 
ryder, "looked everywhere." Doc thinks a minute. "Well 
then," says he, "look in the wine cellar." And sure 
enough, there it was. Been lost for five weeks. Hard- 

10 



ryder had had to swear off, you know, on account of 
his stomach, but of course Doc did n't know that. 

Nod. (leaning forzvard, interested) . Wonderful, my 
lord ! 

Wig. (zuarming to the theme). Oh, he's a keen one. 
Told Betty Mason where her son was. He cured her 
of rheumatism, and she said she could n't pay because 
her son was lost, and had n't brought home any money. 
"Where is your son?" says Doc, — I suppose he thought 
she was lyin'. "Heving only knows," says Betty, "he 
have n't been home these six months." "Look in Lock- 
port jail," says Doc, quick as a wink. And there they 
found him ; been sent up for horse stealing. 

N^od. How much does this man charge for his ser- 
vices ? 

PfA'o-. He did n't charge Hardryder anything, and all 
he charged Betty Mason for was the pills. One dollar. 
Why don't you send for him ? He's a ferrit ; he'll locate 
your money. I tell you what; come along with me — I 
got the carriage here — and I'll drop you at his office. 

N'od. But — er what if the police get hold of it? 

Wig. (zvith an expansive grin). Oh they won't. The 
police never get hold of anything. Come along. 

A^od. But how can I approach the subject, my lord? 
He is a doctor. I can not ask a doctor to do police duty. 
It is unprofessional. 

Wig. (drumming thoughtfully on the table zvith his 
cane). I have it. Invite him to dinner. 

Nod. (horror-stricken) . But he is not a gentleman! 

Wig. (shrugging) . 'Spose he is n't. You have lost 
ten thousand dollars. You want to find it. You can't 
go to him; he is n't a gentleman. Don't you see? 

Nod. (helplessly). Well, what then? 

Wig. (drumming on the table). You invite him to 
dinner. You get to talking; from politics to horses; 
from horses to finance ; from finance to gold ; from gold 
to robbery ; from robbery to your robbery. It's dead 
easy. Come along. Doc's a busy man. 

111! 



Nod. {rising to ring a tiny hell). That is an excel- 
lent idea, my lord. I will invite this clever doctor to 
dinner. 

(Enter Peters.) 

Bring me my coat and hat. (Peters goes.) 

Wig. (drumming thoughtfully). How do you knov« 
your servants are honest? 

Nod. (arranging things on his desk). Because they 
have always been. 

J-Vig. That's no proof they always will be. 

(Enter Peters with cane, hat, overcoat and gloves. He 
assists N oddlehede to don his coat.) 

Nod. (putting on his coat with infinite pains and ele- 
gance). It is no proof, my lord, but it is a good reason. 
I should as soon think of accusing myself as my servants. 
(Peters fumbles, and shoivs sudden confusion.) How 
long have you been in my service, Peters? 

Peters, (visibly agitated). Twenty-eight years, my 
lord. 

Nod. (drawing on his gloves, oblivious of Peters' 
confusion) . Born in this palace, were you not? 

Peters, (dropping the cane). Yes, my lord. (In 
recovering the cane, he drops the hat, which rolls 
around.) Pardon me, my lord. 

Wig. (drawing on his gloves, watching Peters nar- 
rozvly). You're nervous this morning, Peters. 

Peters, (handing N oddlehede his hat and cane). Yes, 
my lord. 

Wig. (grinning). Better take something for it, 
Peters. 

Peters. (bowing nervously, his eyes downcast). 
Thank you, my lord, (to A^ oddlehede). Is that all, my 
lord? 

Nod. Yes, Peters. Tell the Chief of Police that I 
will return in an hour. Meanwhile, he can look over the 
premises. 

12 



Peters. Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord. {He 
soes, sHirnblins; over a buffet.) 

Wig. Fine fellow, that Peters. So self-possessed. 

Nod. (being quite ready, and conscious of his per- 
fection). All the servants are upset this morning. My 
lord, I await your pleasure. 

Wig. After you, Noddlehede. {They go out, Nod- 
dlehede shoiving much insistent pantomime deference to 
his guest.) 

CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 

{The Office of Dr. Knozvall, the Same Morn- 
ing.) 

{In a barren office, with a plain desk, and a few hot- 
ties on a shelf, Jacob Crabs, "Dr. Know-all," is keeping 
"office hours." He is discovered reading a huge hook 
with puzdcd earnestness.) 

Crabs, {reading aloud, and spelling out the big words 
laboriously). "The for — for — ma — tion — the formation 
of t — u^ — e — r — ^^c — 1 — e — s, tub — er — cles, in anyt — 
i — s — s — u — e, due to the presence of s — p — e — c — i — f 
— i — c, speck — if — tick, b — a — c — i — 1 — 1 — u — s." That 
gets mx. It's the hardest yet. {spells it again). B — a, 
bay, c — i — 1 — 1, sil, baysill, u — s, us, baysillus. Back- 
sill-us. Now "bay" or "back," which is it? Backsillyus. 
That don't sound good; it don't sound scientific. Bay- 
sillus. Baysill«^. That's it, I reckon. "Speck-if-tick 
baysillus." That's what consumption is. {Reads aloud, 
quite fluently) : "The formation of tub-ercles in any 
tissure due to the presence of speck-if-tick baysillus." 
{looks up zvistfuUy). I hope I can remember that until 
tomorrow, {sighs). There are lots of big words in the 
doctor business. {drums thoughtfully on the desk). 
Lots of big words. Now who'd a-thought consumption 
was anything like that? "Speck-if-tick baysillus." It 

13 



sounds mighty bad. {looks at an enormous silver watch). 
Eleven o'clock, {yawns profoundly, and hangs the hook 
shut.) There are 206 bones in the human ana-tomy. I 
learned that yesterday, {yawns and settles himself to 
sleep). It makes me sleepy to read. 

{Bnter Mrs. Crabs, znnth a large raghag, and some 
mending.) 

Mrs. C. {dismally). What are you doing, Jacob? 
Crabs, {starting from his nap, and reaching for the 
book). I'm reading up on consumption. 

Mrs. C. {putting the raghag on the desk, and seat- 
ing herself). 1 thought I'd come in and set awhile. 
There's nobody out there — there never is. 

Crabs, {crossly). Don't put that ragbag on the desk. 
You ought n't to sew in here. It aint professional. 

Mrs. C. {sewing). You must n't say aint. We got 
to talk proper now. {Crabs reads, and she sews, remark- 
ing, presently). What are you readin' about? 

Crabs, {turning a page). Consumption. 

Mrs. C. Why don't you read about something you 
don't know? Everybody knows about consumption. 

Crabs, {shaking his head). Not the kind in this 
book they don't. This is speck-if-tick consumption. 

Mrs. C. Oh. {He returns to his book, with renewed 
sest. Pretty soon she says) : I think this is a terribul 
lonesome town. I wish we'd never sold the farm. It 
seems like you don't get started, somehow. How many 
patients have you had this week? 

Crabs. One. I can't get started all at once. I'll have 
to cure some rich or famous person before people will 
think I'm a good doctor. 

Mrs. C. Some great person. 

Crabs, {ivith a gusty sigh). Yes, a King or a Duke, 
or something like that. 

Mrs. C. But Kings and Dukes don't get sick. They 
don't have to work and they have plenty to eat. Why 
should they get sick? 

14 



Crabs, (crossly). Oh well, I think they might get 
an indigestion ! ( Without, there is a tremendous clatter 
and hanging.) What's that? 

Mrs. C. (sewing serenely). It's that sign. It bangs 
against the house all the time. (There is a sound of 
heavy falling. ) There ! It's blew down ! 

Crabs. Well, we got to have that sign. Doctor So- 
dium said so. (listening). Hark! There's somebody 
in the waiting room. You got to go. (She lises, scat- 
tering spools and ragbag bundles. He lays the book open 
on the desk, and puts on a pair of eye-glass rims.) 
Hurry up ! 

Mrs. C. (picking up things, and dropping more). 
Oh, I hope it's a Duke ! (Attempting to help her. Crabs 
bumps heads ztnth her.) Ouch! — (zuhispering). You 
aint got on your beard. (He takes a beard from his 
pocket, and puts it on, with a rubber band.) 

(Bnter a small, slovenly servant girl, with a large 
bottle.) 

Crabs, (stroking his beard into place). Well, sissy, 
what do you want? 

Servant, (sniffling) . Air you the doctor? 
Crabs. Yes, my child. 

Servant. My missis wants some benzine. (She holds 
out the bottle.) 

Crabs. This aint an apothecary shop. Who is your 
missis ? 

Servant, (sniff ling painfully) . Ole Miz Tippet. 

Crabs. Well, she can't buy benzine here. 

Mrs. C. Little girl, are you sure missis said benzine? 

Servant. Yessum. 

Mrs. C. Is your missis sick? 

Servant. No mum, but she has queer spells Sattaday 
nights. 

Mrs. C. (with an air of wisdom). And this is Fri- 
day. — Don't you see, Jacob, she meant morphine, for her 
sick spell tomorrow night. Give her morphine. 

15 



Crabs. Sissy, are you sure she did n't say morphine? 

Servant. I dunno. Benzine's what I alius gets in this 
bottle. 

Crabs, (smelling the bottle). Smells like vinegar. 

Mrs. C. (smelling the bottle). Smells like coal oil. 

Crabs, (smelling the bottle). Smells like gin. — Are 
you sure this is the right bottle? 

Servant, (wearily). I dunno. 

Crabs, (smelling the bottle). In this coagulation of 
smells, gin certainly preponderates. — Have you got the 
money to pay for it? 

Servant, (resting on the other foot). Yessir. I alius 
pays. 

Mrs. C. I'd give her morphine. 

Crabs, (seating himself, and speaking impressively). 
Now, sissy, listen. Benzine is- what you rub grease out 
with. Morphine is — is — er — something different. Mor- 
phine is very different. (The sniffling Servant looks at 
him earnestly.) Does your missis understand the pro- 
prieties of morphine? 

Servant, (earnestly). Yessir. 

Mrs. C. (consumed zvith pride in his performance). 
Read to her what your doctor book says about morphine. 

Crabs, (opening the book). Let see if I can make it 
plainer to you. (After a prodigious turning of leaves, 
he reads, to the Servant's aived admiration) . "Morphine. 
A bitter cry — stall — leen nar — nar — narcotic all — all — 
kal — lord contained in o — pee — ^um, and used in medi- 
cine for the purpose of all — eve — ^vi — ating pain and de- 
ducing sleep." — There, now you know what morphine is. 
Is your missis sleepy? 

Servant, (earnestly). No sir. She's a-washin'. 

Crabs. If she aint sleepy she don't want morphine. 
You cut home and find out what she wants. She'd bet- 
ter write it down. Leave the bottle. 

Servant. Yessir. I'll get her to write it down. (She 
goes.) 

16 



Crabs, {smelling the bottle). Of all the smells I 
ever smelled — Listen! There's somebody else. Go on 
away. — Here, take your ragbag. 

Mrs. C. Maybe it's a Duke this time ! {She tiptoes 
out.) 

Crabs, {opening the book). Come in ! 

{Unter a woman Patient, with a shawl over her head.) 

Good morning, Madam. Be seated. Madam. {She 
seats herself, zvith a groan.) Where do you hurt most, 
Madam? 

Patient, {lowering her shazvl to her shoulders). I 
dunno, doctor, I declare I hurt so everywheres. 

Crabs. Ah, that is a bad symbol. Madam, a bad sym- 
bol. Probably your solar plexus is affected. 

Patient, {scared). Oh, Doctor, do you think so? 
{Crabs feels her pulse, with impressive use of the silver 
watch.) I kaint sleep nights, and I aint got no appy-tite 
for nothin' but limey beans; seems like nothin' else won't 
set on my stummick. 

Crabs. Please be quiet, Madam. Your heart does not 

beat so well when you talk .It is as I suspicioned. 

Your solar plexus is very bad. Your resignation is low, 
and your diagnosis is weak. We must increase your 
resignation at once. {She looks scared. He goes to the 
medicine shelf, takes doivn several bottles, and concocts 
some medicine, pouring it into a small bottle.) Now, 
Madam, listen to my instructions carefully. 

Patient, {earnestly, trying not to break dozvn) . Yes, 
doctor. Say 'em slow. 

Crabs, {shaking the bottle vigorously). Put a table- 
spoonful of this in hot water; let it cool, and — and sip 
it slowly. Then eat three small crackers. 

Patient, {earnestly). Three small crackers. Yes, 
doctor. 

Crabs, {wrapping up the medicine). Take it every 
two hours. If the pain in the solar plexus returns, re- 
peat the dose as before. Do not sit in a draught, and 

17 



whatever you do, do not go to bed hungry. That is 
the very worst thing you can do for the solar plexus. 

Patient, (quaking). But, doctor, what is the matter 
with me? 

Crabs, (replacing his eye-glass rims and straighten- 
ing his beard, both troublesome adjuncts). Madam, it is 
not always best to tell people what is the matter with 
them. It makes them nervous. Now I can see that you 
are of a nervous disposition — 

Patient, (weeping) . I am, doctor! There never was 
a nervouser woman ! 

Crabs. One can see that at a glance, Madam. You 
must reserve your nerves as much as possible. Your 
disease is fatal in only eight cases out of ten. 

Patient, (rolling her eyes). Oh my goodness, am I 
going to die? 

Crabs, (stroking his beard). I hope not, Madam.. 
Follow my directions, and come again. Avoid compli- 
cations and draughts. What is the name, Madam? 

Patient, (rising to go). Mrs. Michael Q'Shannessy. 

Crabs. Thank you. (boiving her out). Good morn- 
ing, Madam. (Patient goes, subdued and wide-eyed.) 
Good morning. (He writes, painfully, in a big ledger.) 
Mrs. Michael O'Shannessy. One dollar. I wonder 
what's the matter with her? I must read up. 

(Enter a -man Patient, with his head tied up.) 

Patient, (falling limply into a chair). Doc, I'm a 
sick man. I'm an awful sick man ! 

Crabs, (sympathetically). What's the matter of you? 

Patient. It's my head ! Oh Lord, my head ! It feels 
like a football game. 

Crabs, (feeling his head). It does? Let me see 
your tongue. (Takes out his watch, and counts his 
pulse.) Your pulse is irresponsible and variable. How 
is your appetite? 

Patient. Bad, Doc, mighty bad. Everything tastes 
hke cotton. 

18 



Crabs, (thoughtfully). Delirious trimmings, in my 
judgment. Let me see. (He reads and reads in the 
hook, frozvning heavily.) There are nineteen different 
sorts of headaches. We must wait developments. In 
many cases it is best to — to wait developments. 

Patient, (groaning). Can't you give me something 
now? I'll die waiting developments. 

Crabs, (going to the medicine shelf). Certainly. Cer- 
tainly. I can give you tempermental relief. (He 
straightens his beard, pours medicine, and zvraps up the 
bottle, the Patient groaning mortally the zvhile.) Here 
you are. Take a teaspoonful of this every hour, and one 
of these pills every three hours. The baysillus in your 
brain is in very bad shape, but this is all we can do at 
present. 

Patient, (rising stiffly). Now honest. Doc, what's 
the matter with me? 

Crabs, (soothingly). My dear sir, it is impossible 
to say at this stage of the game. I shall have to study 
your constitution and by-laws. 

Patient, (pocketing the medicine) . Will you have to 
operate, do you think? 

Crabs. As to that, I can not say. The baysillus is a 
very complicated organ, and I would — er — er advise 
against operating unless in extreme cases. But do not 
be distressed. I will let you know in time. 

Patient. How much, Doc? 

Crabs, (genially). One dollar, my dear sir. (Pa- 
tient pays) . Thank you. Good morning. (Patient goes, 
much depressed. Crabs zurites in the ledger.) That's a 
straight whiskey headache, but I did n't dast say so. A 
doctor can't tell people all he knows. I've learned that 
much. 

(Enter Lord Wigglestaff and Lord Noddlehede.) 
Wig. Is this Dr. Know- All? 

Crabs, (snatching off his falling beard as he turns). 
1 am Dr. Know-Ail. 

Wig. My name is Wigglestaff, Lord Wigglestaff. 

19v 



Crabs, (bozuing). Thank you, my lord. 

Wig. My friend, Lord Noddlehede, of Noddlehede 
Hall. 

Crabs, (bowing, zvell-nigh overcome). Good morn- 
ing, my lord. 

Wig. (going). Well, Noddlehede, I'll leave you here. 
Doc'll take care of you. See you later. So long! 

Crabs, (bozving and bozving). Good morning, my 
lord. Do not hurry away, my lord. (Wigglestaff goes, 
zvaz'ing his hat airily.) Be seated, my lord. What may 
I do for you, my lord? . . 

Nod. (extending his elegant hand). Doctor Know- 
All, it gives me great pleasure to meet one of whom 
rumor speaks so favorably, (seats himself). I have 
heard much of your kindness to the poor, since you came 
among us, and it affords me extreme gratification that 
a man of your character has settled in our midst. ( Crabs 
szvallozi's his pride and surprise in one lump.) I have 
called to ask you and your wife to dine with me at my 
palace tomorrow, at one o'clock, that I may become 
better acquainted with one who is known far and wide 
for his — er — his erudition, if I may be allowed the ex- 
pression in the presence of the gentleman himself. 
(Crabs is too much overcome to reply). That is, Doc- 
tor, if you can spare the time. I know that you are 
much occupied with your professional duties. 

Crabs, (nozv quite recovered). My lord, you are 
very kind, but I am afraid that I can not find the time 
from my — er professional duties. Every day I am more 
rushed; only yesterday I had to turn away several im- 
portant patients. And I have not had time to fix up 
my office; I trust your lordship will excuse it. Let me 
see; let me see. (He opens the ledger, makes some notes 
in pencil, then takes dozvn the 'phone receiver.) 1109, 

please 1109. Thank you Dr. Sawbones? 

Oh, he's not in This is Dr. Know-All Dr. 

Know-Ail Will you tell the Doctor that Dr. Know- 
All can not meet him tomorrow at eleven? At 

eleven That's all. I will call him up later, (rings 

20 



tip another party, zvith professional preoccupation.) 160 
160 ".Mrs. Martin? Is this Mrs. Mar- 
tin? It is Mrs. Martin? Oh This is Dr. 

Know-All Thursday at 9 in the morning No, 

not tomorrow. I find I cannot see you tomorrow 

That's all. (hangs up the receiver, then studies the 
ledger again).. My lord, I am happy to say that I can 
be with you tomorrow, after all. 

Nod. (rising, much impressed with all this). The 
pleasure is mine, Dr. Know-Ail. I feel honored. I will 
send my carriage for you at twelve-thirty o'clock. Will 
that be agreeable to you? 

Crabs, (rising). Yes, my lord. Quite so, my lord. 

Nod. Present my compliments to your wife. It will 
afiford me much pleasure to welcome her to Noddlehede 
Hall. I need not detain you longer. Good morning. 

Crabs, (almost bowing himself to extinction) . Good 
morning, my lord. Thank you, my lord. (Noddlehede 
goes, and Crabs sinks into a chair, limp.) 

(Enter Mrs. Crabs, tiptoe.) 

Mrs. C. I heard it all ! There was a coach and two 
footmen ! What an elegant voice he has ? Is he married ? 

Crabs, (stviping his-brozv with a red handkerchief). 
I'm a made man ! I'm a made man ! 

Mrs. C. (zviping her brimming eyes on her sewing 
apron). But how will we know how to act? We aint 
got no manners ! 

Crabs. We'll have manners enough. We got to have. 
If I miss this chance, shoot me for a fiddler ! I'm a made 
man! (Rises, and holds out his arms, the red handker- 
chief zvaving gallantly.) Gretchel, old girl, our fortune's 
made ! 

Mrs. C. (tumbling into his arms). Oh Jacob! 

CURTAIN. 



21 



ACT IV. 

{The Dining-room of Lord Noddlehead's 
Palace, the Next Day.) 

{The Dining-room of Noddlehede Hall. A table 
spread for dinner, zmth three covers. Peters, in livery, 
stands in the backgrotmd, by a serving table.) 

{Enter Lord Noddlehede, escorting "Dr. Know-All," 
and his wife. Mrs. Crabs is got up "regardless," but, 
being subdued, she does not appear ridiculous.) 

Nod. Welcome to Noddlehede Hall. {He steps to 
the table, boivs, and places a chair for Mrs. Crabs.) Per- 
mit me, Madam. {Mrs. Crabs seats herself.) Doctor, 
will you be seated? {Peters places a chair for Crabs, 
beside that of his zvife, then seats Noddlehede at the 
head of the table.) Permit me to express my pleasure 
in having such distinguished guests at my table. {To 
Peters.) Let the dinner be served. 

Peters. Yes, my lord. {He goes out, stick-like and 
solemn.) 

Crabs, (leaning back, chesty and grand).. The pleas- 
ure is all ours, my lord. You show us great honor. 

Nod. (opening his napkin, an action imitated by the 
Crabses, as all his subsequent "table manners" are). I 
presume you do not have much time in your busy life 
for the frivolities of society, Doctor? {Peters enters, 
ivith a large plait er.) 

Crabs. No, my lord, a doctor's life is a hard one. 
{aside to his wife). That's the first one. {Peters, knoiv- 
ing that this aside refers to him, is disconcerted.) 

Nod. {carving with elegant precision). So I have 
been informed. But the opportunities to do good are 
endless, if I may be allowed to express myself so forcibly. 

(Enter the Second Servant, zvith a covered dish.) 

Crabs, {aside to his wife). That's the second one. 
( Under Mrs. Crabs' tmde gaze, the Second Servant be- 
comes flurried.) Yes, my lord. That is true, my lord. 

22 



Nod. Which do you prefer, white or dark meat, 
Madam ? 

Mrs. C. Oh, it don't matter a bit, my lord. I eat 
every kind. (The Second Servant carries a covered dish 
to the guests.) 

Nod. Permit me, Madam, to help yon to some of the 
white meat. I trust you will find it to your liking. — 
Which will you have, Doctor? 

Crabs. Dark meat, my lord. Thank you, my lord. 

Nod. (to Crabs). As I was about to remark, I pre- 
sume your time is occupied to the exclusion of the lighter 
pleasures of life, if I may permit myself the expression? 

Mrs. C. (bravely butting in). He's hardly ever at 
home, my lord. I often say I might as well not have 
any husband for all I get of him. 

iVorf. I presume that is quite true, Madam. (Peters 
proffers the bread plate to her.) 

Crabs, (aside to his zvife). That's the first one, re- 
member. (The servants gase at eacJf other in startled 
dismay.) Yes, I am a very busy man these days. There 
is so much sickness among the nobility, my lord. You 
would be astonished. 

Nod. The bread, Peters. — You don't tell me. Doctor. 
Of course the burdens of society fall heavily on the upper 
classes. The ladies get scarcely any rest during the sea- 
son. Lady Poppletop is prostrate today, my lord tells 
me. She was at the ball last night, the gayest of the 
gay, but it was too much for her. (The Second Servant 
removes the plates to the side table.) 

Crabs, (aside to his zvife). That's the second one 
again. — Lady Poppletop is not strong, my lord. I am 
sorry to say that her specific gravity is intermittent — 
very intermittent. (The servants hold a scared luhispered 
conference at the side table.) 

Nod. You surprise me. Doctor. Does my Lord Pop- 
pletop know of this condition? 

Crabs, (shaking his head). I informed his lordship 
of her condition only last week, my lord. 

23 



Nod. These beautiful women, how delicate they are! 
This is distressing. Society would suffer a great loss in 
Lady Poppletop's demise. — Peters, serve the coffee. 
{Peters goes out.) 

(Bnter the Third Servant, with a large covered tureen, 
which he places before his master.) 

Crabs, {looking hard at the Third Servant, and 
speaking aside to his wife). That's the third one, my 
dear. {The Third Servant looks frightened, and stum- 
bles about. Peters comes in zvith the coffee.) 

Nod. (smiling). Ah, what have we here? Doctor, 
I am informed by Lord Wigglestaff that you are a mind 
reader, and know things without being told. {The 
scared servants nudge each other.) I will make a test 
of your power. Can you, without looking, tell me what 
is in this tureen? (Mrs. Crabs looks anxious. The lis- 
tening servants are on tenter-hooks.) 

Crabs, (apostrgphising himself). Oh Crabs, Crabs, 
Crabs, this is a hard place for you ! 

Nod. Now let us see if you are right. (He takes off 
the cover of the tureen.) They are crabs! I perceive 
that you are a very clever man. (He serves the crabs, 
smilingly.) Now I should like to ask you a question. 
Will you permit me ? ( The servants confer in the back- 
ground.) 

Crabs. I am at your service, my lord. 

Nod. (leaning back). The question I am about to 
ask has to do with a robbery that occurred in my palace 
the day before yesterday. I presume you have heard of 
it? (Peters goes out, hastily.) 

Crabs. No, my lord, I do not get time to read the 
papers much. You say there was a robbery here, in your 
palace, my lord? 

Nod. There was. Ten thousand dollars was taken 
from my strong box. 

Crabs, (gasping). My lord! 

Mrs. C. (rolling her eyes). For the land sakes ! 

Nod. Well may you exclaim, Madam. Such a daring 

24 



robbery has not been known in these parts for a hundred 
years. 

Mrs. C. For the land sakes ! 

{Enter Peters.) 

Peters. Pardon me, my lord. A gentleman to see 
you on important business. 

Nod. (rising). It is probably the Chief of Police. 
Excuse me. Pray proceed with your dinner. (He goes.) 

Peters, (to Crabs). Oh sir, we know that we are 
discovered in our wickedness, (falls on his knees) . We 
beg for mercy. 

Sec. Ser. (falling on his knees beside Peters). We 
beg for mercy! 

Third Ser. (falling on his knees beside the Second 
Servant). We beg for mercy ! 

Mrs. C. What's the matter with them? How silly 
they look ! 

Crabs, (puzzled, but "game"). Be quiet, my dear. 
(To Peters, sternly.) I have you in my power. 
Peters. You have. 
Sec. Ser. You have. 
Third Ser (sniffling). You have, good Sir! 

Crabs, (severely). Well, what do you propose to do 
about it? Speak up! 

Peters. I will give you one hundred dollars if you 
will not tell Lord Noddlehede. 

Sec. Ser. I will give you fifty. 

Third Ser. (sniffling). I will give you twenty-five 
if you won't tell on me. (He breaks dozun.) 

Mrs. C. What's the matter of them, Jacob? Make 
them go away. 

Crabs, (sizing them up thoughtfully). Stand up! 
(They rise, fearfully, and he turns to the Third Servant.) 
Quit blubbering, you baby! (He looks sternly at each, 
in turn.) You stole your master's gold. 

Peters, (zvringing his hands). We did. 

25 



Sec. Ser. We did. 

Third Ser. {mopping his eyes zvith his serving nap- 
kin). We did! Oh, we did! 

Crabs. You stole it, and then you hid it. You know 
where it is this minute. 

Peters. We do. 

Sec. Ser. We do. {Jltird Servant lueeps copiously.) 

Crabs, {sizing them up scornfully) . You're a pretty 
brace of servants now, aint you? Sneak thieves. Hang- 
in's too good for you. If I say the word, his lordship 
will put you all in jail. He ought to. 

Peters, {falling on his knees). Oh, kind Sir, be mer- 
ciful ! 

Sec. Ser. {falling on his knees). Be merciful! I 
have ten children to support ! 

Third Ser. {falling on his quaking knees). Be mer- 
ciful to me, a sinner! {He zveeps.) 

Crabs. Get up! {They rise, creakingly.) Where's 
the money? Tell me that, and I'll see that you don't 
go to jail. 

Peters, {looking around fearfully). It is under the 
barn floor, in two money bags. 

Crabs. That's the truth, is it? 

Peters, {holding up his hand). It is. So help me. 

Sec. Ser. {holding up his hand). He has spoke the 
truth. So help me. 

Third Ser. {holding up his hand). It is. I dug the 
hole myself. So help me. 

Crabs. All right, {to Peters). Go get me that one 
hundred dollars, {to Second Servant), and that fifty, {to 
Third Servant), and that twenty-five. Hurry up! 

All. Yes, Sir! {They start to go, bumping into each 
other in their eagerness.) 

Crabs. Don't make so much noise. {They go, pell- 
mell. He seats himself at the table, chuckling.) 

Mrs. C. Is n't that dreadful? How did you know 
they stole the money? 

26 



Crabs, {helping himself to fresh food). Did n't 
know it. I was counting the servants, to see how many 
a lord keeps, and they thought I had 'em spotted. My 
■dear, we are famous A-om this hour. Hereafter, Doctor 
Know-Ail rides in his own carriage. 

{Enter Lord Noddlehede.) 

Nod. I was absent longer than I expected. I trust 
you will pardon my neglect. No trace of the robbers 
has been found. 

Crabs, {eating his dinner serenely). My lord, may 
I offer you some advice? 

Nod. {pacing the floor). My dear sir, be frank. The 
Chief of Police is ready to abandon the search, and I am 
at my wits' end. I desire you to be frank. 

Crabs. My lord, your money is under the barn floor, 
in two money bags. 

Nod. {ringing tlte bell violently). We will search 
Ihe spot immediately. I will have the floor taken up. 

This is wonderful! (Rings the bell more.) You are 
the most clever man in the world ! Peters ! So it was 
"buried on my own property, right under my servants' 
eyes! Peters! (rings and rings). Where is that fel- 
low ? Peters ! Oh Peters ! 

Crabs. He was here a minute ago, my lord. 
{Enter Peters^ about zmnded.) 

Peters. Did you ring, my lord? 

Nod. Peters, my gold is found ! 

Peters. My lord, you astonish me ! ( Under pretext 
of reiilling Crabs' tumbler, he smuggles a roll of bills 
io him). Where, my lord? 

Nod. Under the barn floor, in three money bags. 

Crabs, (drinking zuater). Two money bags. Par- 
don me, my lord. 

Nod. Yes, I mean two ; two money bags. Go tell the 
carpenter to take up the barn floor. I will join you 
shortly. (Peters goes.) Doctor, I will give you one 
thousand dollars if the money is found there. 

27 



{Enter the Second Servant, breathless.) 

Nod. (to Second Servant). Go help Peters take up 
the barn floor. 

Sec. Ser. (gasping). The barn floor? 

Nod. Go help him. Don't stand there with your 
mouth open ! My gold is found. 

Crabs, (zvith a meaning look at the Second Servant). 
Please give me a glass of water. (While pouring the 
water, the Second Servant smuggles Crabs some gold 
pieces.) Thank you. (The Second Servant goes out.) 

Nod. Doctor, will you accompany me to the barn? I 
will sign a check for one thousand dollars the instant we 
find the money. 

Crabs, (drinking zvater). Yes, my lord. Thank you^ 
my lord. 

Mrs. C. (rising). Oh, let me go, too! 

Nod. (graciously). Certainly, Madam. The situa- 
tion is not without its romantic side. Permit me. (He 
offers her his arm.) Let us go immediately. 

(Bnter the Third Servant, in haste.) 

Crabs. I'll come in a minute. I seem uncommon dry. 
(meaningly, to the trembling Third Servant). A glass 
of water, please. 

Nod. We will proceed slowly. This way. Madam. 
Mind the step. (They go.) 

Third Ser. (pouring zvater). Yes, Sir. (Crabs takes 
the bills he hands him, and points silently to the door. 
The Third Servant goes, trembling. Crabs counts all his 
money, aloud and unctionsly, and stozvs it azvay, grin- 
ning.) From this day, Doctor Know- All rides in his 
own carriage. (He grins, drinks more zvater, and struts 
out.) 

CURTAIN. 



28 



ACT V. 

{The Office of Doctor Know-Ail, Six 
Months Later.) 

{Doctor Know-AWs private office, an elegantly ap- 
pointed apartment. Enter Dr. Know-All, sprucely 
dressed, as from the street, with a m^edicine case. He 
rings a bell; a trim zvaiting maid enters, to ivhom he 
hands his hat and coat.) 

Maid. Lord Wigglestaff is waiting to see you. 
Crabs. Send him in. {The Maid goes.) 

{Enter Lord Wigglestaff, "dressy" and jovial.) 

Wig. {slapping him lightly on the shoulder). Hello, 
Doc! 

Crabs, {extending his hand). Good afternoon, my 
lord. Be seated. 

Wig. {sitting dozvn^ on the edge of the desk). Can't 
stop, old man. Want you to go duck hunting. How 
about it? 

Crabs, {seating himself). I don't know. I might 
manage it. When do you propose going? 

Wig. Want to go Monday, for three days. We'll 
put up at my lodge. Lord Stein and Harry Hardryder 
are going. We voted to have you. Better say yes, and 
save further trouble. 

Crabs. I'm afraid I have n't got time, my lord. 

Wig. {winking). Oh yes, you have. Doc! I call 
your bluff ! 

Crabs. You're very kind, but really I am so busy — 

Wig. {leaning forzvard to tap him on the shoulder 
with his cane). Of course you're busy, my boy. You're 
so bloomin' busy that you make most folks look like 
snails on a dry day, but — {grinning) you're coming with 
us, just the same, you know. 

Crabs, {grinning). Monday, did you say? 

Wig. {slipping off the desk). Monday's the time, 

29 



the Grand Hotel's the place, and mum's the word. We 
start at 10. Hardryder will join us on the North Fork 
Road. So long-, Monday at 10. 

Crabs. Good afternoon, my lord. {Wigglestaif goes. 
Crabs opens the big book on the desk, and rings the bell.) 
(Enter the Maid.) 

Crabs. Show the first patient in. (The Maid goes.) 

(Enter an ultra-modish Lady, followed by a Nurse, 
zvho leads an over-dressed, sulky little girl.) 

Crabs. Good afternoon, Madam. 

Lady. How do you do, Doctor? (She extends her 
hand, held high.) My name is De Haven — Mrs. S. Har- 
rington De Haven. 

Crabs. Be seated, Madam. 

Lady, (seating herself). I am so glad to find you 
in. So glad. They say that you are the busiest man 
(laughs ligJitly) , just the busiest man! 

Crabs, (seating himself). I find my time very much 
occupied, Mrs. De Haven. 

Lady. Oh, I know. I know. I often say to Mr. De 
Haven, "Oh, these doctors ! How do they ever find time 
to eat I" — Come here, Madeline Genevra. ( The little 
girl shakes her head until, her hat rattles.) Come here, 
my child. 

Nurse. Go to Mamma, Sweetheart Go to 

Mamma. That's Alary's little girl. 

Child, (jerking away). I won't. 

Lady. Dear child, she is so sensitive, so timid. It's 
because everything is strange to her. — Madeline Genevra, 
come here. 

Child. I won't. (The Nurse pets her anxiously.) 

Crabs. Is the little girl ill. Madam? 

Lady. Come here, Pet, to me. — Yes, doctor, she is so 
nervous that I have decided to put her imder the care of 
a specialist. — Madeline Genevra, why do you not obey 
me? Madeline Genevra, do you hear me? 

30 



Nurse. Answer your Mamma, Sweetheart. 

Child, (scozuling at Crabs). I hate that nasty doc- 
tor. 

Lady, (zvith a rippling laugh). The dear child! How 
quick they understand things ! — The doctor will not hurt 
you, my Precious. He is going to make you well. Come 
here, and let him look at your tongue. ( The Nurse gent- 
ly pushes the Child forzvard, zvhereupon the latter emits 
a loud yell of defiance.) Why, Madeline Genevra! What 
has come over you ? Come to me this instant ! 

Crabs, (rising). LyCt me speak to her, Madam, (to 
the Child). Would you like to see the pretty pussy cat 
I have? 

Child, (violently). No. 

Crabs. Don't you like puss)'- cats? 

Child. No. (zvith a zmil). I want to go home! I 
want to go home ! 

Lady. The precious child is frightened. I am afraid 
you do not understand children, doctor. — He only wants 
to see your tongue, Sweetheart. I will not let him hurt 
you. See, Mary is not afraid of him. — Are you, Mary? 

Mary. No indeed. He is a nice doctor. (The Child 
eyes the trio zvith sour disdain.) 

Lady. I will give you a new necklace tomorrow, if 
you will let the doctor see your tongue. 

Nurse. Miss Madeline wants red slippers, Mrs. De 
Haven. She told me so yesterday. 

Child, (zvith a zvild-cat turn). I never! That's a 
story ! 

Lady. Madeline — Madeline Genevra! I will not per- 
mit you to speak in that manner to Mary. Now kiss her, 
and tell her you are sorry Did you hear me, Made- 
line ? Sweetheart, kiss poor Mary. Poor Mary, 

she loves you so! (Mary pretends to cry.) You have 
broken poor Mar3^'s heart. .And she is so good to you. 
You are a naughty girl. (She pretends to cry.) 

Mary, (peeking forth cautiously). There, Miss 

31 



Madeline ! You have made your pretty Mamma cry ! 
Poor Mamma ! 

Child. She aint cryin'. 

Lady, (peeking forth, as Mary retires behind her 
handkerchief again). Do you think you are acting hke 

Mamma's Httle lady, Madeline ? Poor Mary. Do 

not cry, Mar)^ Madeline is sorry. 

Child. I aint. 

Crabs. Do you wish to have the child examined, 
Madam. 

Lady. Yes, but the little darling is so timid. I do 
not know what to do. It makes her nervous to cross her. 

Crabs, (approaching the child). We must use firm- 
ness. . . Now, Madeline — 

Child, (striking him pettishly). Go 'way, you nasty 
doctor! Go 'way. (She runs out, howling.) 

Lady. Mary, get her quick ! She will be killed in the 
street! (Mary rushes out.) There never was such a 
sensitive child. I am afraid she takes it after me. Is it 
not terrible the way she suffers? I will bring her again 
tomorrow. You must be very gentle with her. I think 
you startled her today; her nerves are in a wretched 
condition. (Crabs bows, speechless. Without there are 
sounds of a scuffle, and screams of '7 won't! I won't!) 
The precious darling! Excuse me! (She hurries out.) 

Crabs, (solemnly). One, two, three, four, five, six, 
seven, eight, nine, ten. The devil ! (He waits till the 
outer commotion has died away, then rings the bell.) 

(Enter the Maid, smiling roguishly.) 
Show the next patient in. 
Maid. Yes, doctor. (She goes, still smiling.) 

(Enter a woman Patient, fashionably dressed, with 
picture hat, and a corsage bouquet.) 

Patient, (in a plaintive voice). Good afternoon, 
doctor. 

Crabs, (bowing with deference). Mrs. Montmo- 
rency. Pray be seated. How are you feeling? 

32 



Patifiit. (sinking gracefully into a chair). Not so 
well, thank you, doctor. My nerves are in a dreadful 
condition — perfectly dreadful. 

Crabs. How do you know it's your nerves? 

Patient, (plaintively) . Because I'm so nervous. Don't 
you think people know when they're nervous? And I 
worry — oh dear, you men don't know what worry is ! 
Sometimes I think I shall go mad thinking about things ! 

Crabs, (soothingly) . Then stop thinking. Madam. 

Patient, (with arch reproach). Oh doctor, how can 
I? You know one can not stop thinking, (holds a laced 
handkerchief to her eyes). Oh, my poor nerves! I 
want to cry all the time. 

Crabs. This is very distressing. {There is a pause.) 
Then you're no better, you think? 

Patient, (dabbing her eyes daintily). No, I am 
worse. I am very much worse. Everybody says so. 
Why, only this morning I spoke sharply to my dear lit- 
tle Alphonso. Think of that. I know I hurt his little 
feelings. But it just shows what a sad state my nerves 
are in. (zveeps). 

Crabs, (kindly sympathetic) . He's a handsome boy, 
Mrs. Montmorency. I often see him with his nurse. 

Patient, (looking out of her handkerchief in sur- 
prise). No, no, my dog — my poor little Alphonso. You 
should have seen him look up at me! Don't you see 
how bad my nerves are when I can be cross to him — ■ 
the poor little innocent! (Weeps daintily.) 

Crabs, (gravely). Ah, I see. Undoubtedly there is 
a fundamental derangement of your nervous system. 
The trouble is more serious than I — er apprehended. I 
am of the opinion that you need a decided change of 
climate. 

Patient, (earnestly). I was afraid you would say 
that, doctor. What do you advise ? 

Crabs. I would recommend a sea voyage. 

Patient, (smiling a little). Where would you advise 

33 



me to go, doctor? I will go anywhere you say. I feel 
tHat it is my duty. 

Crabs. America, by all means. Three months in 
Washington, then down the coast to Florida. 

Patient, (earnestly) . Would you advise Palm Beach? 

Crabs. By all means. Palm Beach, by all means. 

Patient, (sighing, then dimpling, and sighing again). 
Well, if I must, I suppose I must, (rises gracefully). I 
told Mr. Montmorency that I was afraid you would in- 
sist on my going to America. How soon must I go? 

Crabs, (rising). As soon as possible. Complica- 
tions may set in unless you get started at once. 

Patient, (radiantly) . I will go next week, (extends 
her hand). And I promise not to worry about home 
one bit — not one bit! Good bye, doctor. Thank you. 
Good bye. 

Crabs. Good bye, Mrs. Montmorency. I trust you 
will have a pleasant voyage. 

Patient, (radiantly). Thank you, doctor. So kind 
of you! Goodbye! Goodbye! (She goes.) 

Crabs, (dryly). Good bye. (He writes in the 
ledger.) Mrs. Fitzgerald De Montmorency. Five Dol- 
lars. There's only one prescription for rich nervous wo- 
men. I always give 'em that. (He takes down the 
'phone receiver.) 168 168 Is this Dr. So- 
dium? Oh. Well, tell him that Dr. Know-All will 

meet him tomorrow morning at 10 Tomorrow at 

10 Yes. He'll understand. (He hangs up the re- 
ceiver, and rings the bell.) 

(Enter the Maid.) 

Crabs, (curtly). Next patient. (Maid goes.) 

(Enter a man Patient; an elderly man, leaning on a 
crutch, with one of his feet in a bundle.) 

Good afternoon, my lord. And how is the gout today ? 
Patient, (seating himself with many groans and 
grunts). Do you know what I think? 

3* 



Crabs, (genially). No, my lord. What do you think? 

Patient. ■ (pounding on the floor with his crutch). I 
think you doctors don't know any more about gout than 
I do about astronomy. I've been doctoring for three 
years, and look at that foot ! Look at that foot ! ! 

Crabs. But, my lord, you eat what you please, and 
when you please, and — 

Patient, (making wry faces from the pain). Of 
course I do. I will eat what I please, and drink what I 
please, as long as I please. Do I pay you to dictate to 
me what I shall eat and drink? I pay you for medicine. 
Give me some more of those brown pills. 

Crabs, (going to the medicine chest). Yes, my lord. 
Certainly, my lord. 

Patient, (groaning as he talks). I say that doctors 
ought to know their place. When a man tells me what 
to eat, that man's going too far. (stops to groan). I 
say that man's going too far. All I want of you is to 
be cured. That's what doctors are for; to cure people. 
You talk too much, doctor. You have too many opin- 
ions. Do )^ou suppose I would be here if I was n't sick? 
Do you, now? Answer up like an honest man. 

Crabs, (zvrapping up the pill box). Certainly not, 
my lord. 

Patient, (scoivling frightfully). Well, I should say 
I would n't. What woulcl a well man do hanging 'round 
a doctor shop? I'd steer clear of 'em if I could. I tell 
you that. 

Crabs. I don't doubt it, my lord. Has your head 
cleared up? 

Patient. My head's as clear as a bell. I never had 
any trouble with my head until your confounded medi- 
cine made me dizzy, (winces from pain). I was a 
sound man until I commenced foolin' with doctors. 

Crabs. We'll make you a sound man again, my lord. 
Do you sleep well? 

Patient. What's the use of asking me that? If I 
did n't would n't I tell you? My head's clear, and I 

35 



sleep all right. Is there anything else? Oh yes, my 
nerves. Of course. My nerves, (grinding his teeth). 
Why don't you ask me about my nerves? (Crabs smiles 
at him., and shrugs.) Thank you. For once we'll omit 
the discussion on nerves. I'm a man of iron nerves, or 
I'd kick the bottom out of things, (nurses his bundled 
foot). 

Crabs. How's your stomach? 

Patient, (mopping his anguished brow). There it 
goes again ! How is my stummick ? I tell you the pain's 
in my foot. You take care of my foot; I can attend to 
my stummick. That's what I say (stops to groan and 
cough) ; you doctors talk too much. You ask too many 
questions. If there's anything the matter with my stum- 
mick (stops to cough a bit), you ought to know it. If 
you don't know what's the matter, why don't you? My 
Heavens, this is worse than toothache? (He bends over 
his bundled foot, and his crutch falls to the floor.) 

Crabs, [picking up the crutch). My lord, listen. If 
you will eat — 

Patient, (rising painfully). But I won't. Do you 
hear? I won't. Give me my pills. When I pay a man 
to tell me what to eat I'll be a sicker man than I am 
now. (He stumps out, angrily, albeit in pain.) 

Crabs. Tiresome old party, (looks at his watch). 
Ten minutes past four, (rings the bell). 

(Hnter the Maid.) 

Crabs, (yaivning). Are there any more patients out 
there ? 

Maid. Nine. 

Crabs, (yaivning). Men or women? 

Maid. All women. 

Crabs. It's after four. I won't see any more patients 
today. Tell 'em to come tomorrow. Get my coat. (The 
Maid goes out. Crabs whistles softly, waiting.) 

(Enter the Maid, ivith his hat and coat.) 

Crabs, (putting on his coat). Call my carriage. 

36 



Maid. Yes, doctor. (She goes. Crahs stocks his 
medicine case.) 

(Enter the Maid.) 

Maid. Your carriage, doctor. 

Crabs, (taking up his hat and medicine case). All 
right. (He goes. The Maid tidies up the room, and 
the 'phone rings.) 

Maid, (at the 'phone) Yes Yes. This is 

Doctor Know- All's ofifice I can't tell you. He has 

a good man)' calls to make No, not this evening. 

He'll be out of town? Lord Dangleford? Yes, 

my lord Yes, three o'clock Yes, my lord 

Yes indeed. (She hangs up the receiver, makes memo- 
randa, yozvns a big, delicious yazvii, and goes out.) 

CURTAIN. 



37 



other Books by tbe Same fluthor 



THE NOAHS AFLOAT. An Historical Romance. 

Cloth, 12mo; net, $1,50; postage, 10 cents. 

"A delicious burlesque, irreverent but irresistibly funny." 

—The Bookseller. 

THE HEART AND THE CtoWN. A Volume of Son- 
nets. Full leather; printed in two colors; postpaid, $1.25. 

"The work^ls of fine quality, with much that is beautiful and ef- 
fective."— The Graduate Magazine. 

TUMBLEWEED. A Book of Vagrant Verse. 
Cloth, [ 6mo; net, $ 1 .00; postage 8 cents. 

"This beautiful poetry has the scent of the prairie grass, the rhythm 
of the rolling plains."— The Eagle. 

THE OPEN ROAD. A Book of Outcast Verse. 

Cloth, 16mo; net, $1.25; postage, 8 cents. 

"A book of verse which rises clear out of the realm of the ordin- 
ary."— The Wichita Beacon.; 

The above books can be ordered through book stores, or of the 
author, H. Rea Woodman, Poughkeepsie, New York. 



OCT 19 1912 






LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

018 360 884 8< 




